Sapeur: The Great Scam

The Sapeur could be a myth if he wasn’t as genuine as the crocodile-skin shoes on his feet. In the opening moments of the film Sapeur: A Grande Burla, (Sapeur: The Great Scam in English), a brood of children wait for his emergence on the road, certain that, unlike some other mythical creations, he’ll show up. When he does appear, he basks in the attention of the kids, giving them a lecture on the luxury brands adorning his body. The film itself does the same, shooting the Sapeur as though he radiated glory, and with a soundtrack played in his honour. He is a star in the eyes of the kids awaiting his arrival; he’s also a star in the lens of first-time feature film director Denis Miala.

Jacob, as this particular Sapeur is known, works as a mechanic and driving instructor. After his dalliance with the kids, we see that his life isn’t quite as put together as the different items in his wardrobe. Blondie, a local toughie, is after him for money he owes. The pair almost meet but Jacob disappears. His mates cover for him, one of them getting slap-assaulted for his efforts. The entire scene is played for laughs—as is much of the film. The technical competence of the film—there are tracking shots and one showily superfluous underwater domestic laundry scene—gives a sheen of visual elegance. But the politics of the tale is a bit discomfiting, because Miala cannot decide whether the Sapeur is a figure of admiration or derision or pity. Maybe he’s all three.

We watch as Jacob, who is on his second marriage, promises a house to his about-to-be-wed son, the product of his first marriage. One may wonder why a man so obviously poor pledges a house to his son. But that move is the product of the same kind of decision-making that makes Sapeurs out of men of the under-class. These men may starve, these men may be in debt, but those colourful designer clothes must be rocked. Throughout the film, as Miala takes his man from admiration to derision, it is obvious that he has a few things to say about the practice, which is fine because the Sapeur is no longer a politically neutral figure, if he ever was. You are either critical of a person whose most conspicuous commitment is to ostentatious clothes, or you are accepting of the behaviour.

In the first few moments of Sapeur, Miala points his lens in admiration. But as Jacob makes one bad decision after another, our writer-director seems to be encouraging the audience to see him as a figure to be mocked. This may reflect Miala’s own feelings about the matter. He is from the north of Angola, an area with cultural ties to the Congo, birthplace of the Sapeur. To criticise the figure is, in some ways, to criticise his own origins. This, perhaps, is why he doesn’t commit fully one way or the other.

In any case, Jacob gets together with a young man whose late father, also a Sapeur, was friends with Jacob. The two of them concoct a plan to rid an investor of his cash. Being a Sapeur, Jacob already looks like a wealthy person. He just needs to speak the language of the rich to ensnare the investor. He succeeds in adopting the pose but there are a few twists ahead in this fun movie that is carried on the capable shoulders of the riotous David Caracol. He’s surrounded by an uniformly good cast: Claudia Rosa Pucuta, as Jacob’s former wife, is particularly adept at telegraphing both resignation and exhaustion. The film’s major drawback is a saggy middle section and a lengthy runtime.

Nonetheless, this is a popcorn movie that should do well across the continent because its themes and characters are quite familiar to the average African viewer. Indeed, cut the runtime, tighten the rather loose screenplay, and maybe get the director to commit to a political point of view, and Sapeur becomes one model for Africa’s modern commercial film.

Director, screenplay: Denis Miala
Cast: David Caracol, Claudia Rosa Pucuta
Production Company: Mancha Negra Entertainment, MM Kiluz
Venue: FIC Luanda (National Competition)
Language: Portuguese
Runtime: 133 minutes